The World You Thought You Live In
by emebalia
Summary: As a hunter in training Victor Henriksen is on his first real hunt with the Winchesters. Rated for language just to be sure. Third in the Victor 'verse *COMPLETE*
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, I'm just playing with Kripke's toys

**Timeline:** Second Season somewhere between FPB and AHBL

**Author's note:** This is the third part of my Victor 'verse and takes place immediately after the second part "Down the Rabbit Hole". I think this can stand alone but there are references to the other parts.

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><p><strong>The World You Thought You Live In<strong>

After they left Bobby's place Dean quickly fell asleep in the passenger seat his head leaning against the window. Metallica was playing on low tune, Victor felt the basses pondering in his head and it couldn't do Dean's head any good either.

"How can he sleep with all the noise and the rumbling of the engine?" Victor asked Sam who was driving in silence.

"Are you kidding me?" Sam glanced him an amused look through the mirror. "The purr of his baby works better for him than any lullaby." He went silent for a minute. "Try to get some sleep, too."

"Don't think I can." And it wasn't just the noise and being in a moving car in general.

Sam nodded in understanding and maybe he did understand.

"He was your friend." He said, eyes never leaving the road.

"That thing was not my friend." Victor closed his eyes but that only brought Rick's face back. Black eyes behind familiar glasses. No, sleep wasn't an option. So he just looked out of the window and tried not to think about his pondering head and why it was pondering in the first place. The boring landscape wasn't really helping.

"That smoke ..." He broke up not sure how to continue.

"The demon." Sam helped him out. "That's what they look like. They don't have a body so they possess people when they are here."

Victor thought about that for a minute. "And when they are not here, where …?"

"Hell."

"Hell." He repeated with numb lips. He had never been a religious man and the concept of hell had never been more than metaphorical. Maybe it was time to rethink a few things.

"Is there a heaven?" He hesitated. "God?"

Sam gave him a sad smile. "I like to believe it but we never ran across real evidence. I think for that side we have to have faith like everybody else."

"So you know there is hell and demons and all that shit but you're not sure if there is any good out there?"

"Pretty much."

"Your world sucks."

"You tell me." He chuckled.

_My live had been a lot easier when the worst thing out there had been a psychopathic serial killer called Dean Winchester._ Victor sighed.

"Where are we driving?" He broke the silence again.

"Remember the articles? About the dead women?" Sam waited for his nod. Had that really been this morning? It felt like ages ago. "Not sure if it is something or not but we'll find out."

"Will he be ready for it?" Victor nodded in Dean's direction. Silently he added: _I'm sure as hell not __ready for it._ His head hurt, which hopefully would be gone after a good nights sleep, his ribs however were more than just sore and he felt the pain with every breath he took. But he didn't want do show any weakness. It had been his stupidity that almost got them all killed. It was his fault Dean had most likely a concussion.

"He will." Sam answered after a moment in which he just looked at his brother. Something in that look formed a lump in Victor's throat and he swallowed. "Don't worry, Vic. You'll be up for it by then, too." Sam added with a grin.

OK, busted. There wasn't much getting by a Winchester. "I'm just a little sore. Some sleep and I'll be as good as new." He wasn't quite as convinced as he tried to sound.

"It's a three days drive and today we'll stop early to give you two time to recover."

"Sounds good." It really did.

"Just speak for that princess in the back seat. I'm fine." Dean said suddenly without moving or even opening his eyes. Victor startled but Sam just shook his head.

"You banged your head pretty good, Dean. You need time to recover, too."

"'M fine." Came the muffled response.

"Sure you are." Sam rolled his eyes.

True to his word Sam maneuvered the car in a parking lot of a motel in the early evening.

Victor looked around. A run down place, the building only hold together by flaking paint and a sense of optimism. He shouldn't be surprised. While chasing the Winchesters he had seen a few of the places they usually stayed in. Places he never willingly would set a foot in let alone sleep in one. The only reason they ended up in the same motel when they accidentally ran into each other and Victor ended up tied to a chair was because it had been the only motel in that town.

In this town however he had seen at least two signs leading to better places which Sam had just ignored.

"You can't be serious." Victor got out of the car. The motel didn't get better with a closer look.

"What?" Sam shot him a puzzled look.

Behind him Dean snickered. "I think our princess is used to other standards."

Sam looked at his brother then at Victor, turned to the motel and back to Victor. "Oh."

While Dean cracked up laughing, one hand on the car to prevent him from doubling over, Victor felt his blood rushing hot into his cheeks.

"I … didn't ..." Victor started.

"Listen, first lesson of surviving." Dean wiped a tear from his eye. "Money isn't coming in as a regular pay check anymore. You'll have to keep your priorities st..." His eyes rolled back, searching hand missed the roof of the car. Victor caught Dean's arm and saved him from a face-plant but he was slipping from his grip. That guy was heavy.

"Shit." Sam materialized on Dean's other side. His grip around his brother's waist and the way he slung Dean's arm over his shoulder showed his experience with this kind of situation. "Vic, open the door." Sam grunted.

With a smooth move he settled his brother in the passenger seat feet still on the ground outside the car. Fingers on Dean's throat he checked for a pulse. When Sam didn't freak out Victor knew he found one.

"Happens often?" Victor was breathing heavy, this little stunt didn't do his ribs any good.

"More often than I like." Sam made sure his brother was well seated before he stood up. "Keep an eye on him while I get us our rooms, will you?"

"Sure. But shouldn't we get him to a hospital?" Victor wasn't a doctor but passing out couldn't be a good sign.

"He has a mild concussion. I bet it was the laughing, not a good combination." He shook his head. "Normally you don't feel like laughing when you suffer from a concussion."

Victor sensed more experience behind Sam's words but he didn't push it. Besides it was his stupid reaction which caused this. Again.

A few minutes later Sam came back with their keys and together they manhandled Dean into the nearest room. Till then Dean was with them again – more or less – and did his part to get into the room. Which meant his feet weren't dragging on the ground.

"Can walk."

Sam didn't even response to this and dropped his brother unceremonious on the bed.

"Sit down before you fell down." Sam said to Victor who was standing in the doorway not sure what to do next. His head was killing him. Or his ribs. He couldn't tell what hurt more. With a sigh he sat down.

"Here take one of those." Sam dropped a pill on his palm and handed Victor a glass of water. Then he turned to his brother and fed him a pill, too.

"Don't go all Florence Nightingale over me." Came the weak protest but it didn't stop Sam to remove his brothers boots and tug him in. When he was done Dean was sound asleep.

"Stupid bastard." The mumble was nearly inaudible and definitely not for Victor's ears to hear.

"You okay?" Sam sat down on the only other chair. It gave a warning crack but hold under his weight.

"I'm not the one passing out." But it felt like a good idea. Just crash in a bed and sleep twenty-four hours straight. "You know we should get him to a hospital. Or at least checked out by a doctor."

"He's fine." Sam repeated the Winchester phrase of the day. "Can you stay with him for a few minutes while I grab us something to eat? I don't know about you but I'm starving."

By the time Sam came back Victor was half asleep. He wasn't really hungry but he forced a few bites down just because he knew he needed the energy. Apparently Sam had foreseen that, the bag of take out food was not even half the size of the ones Victor remembered from another motel room he had shared with the Winchesters. This time however he could use both of his hands.

After they finished their meal Sam kicked him out and Victor hesitated only a second glancing at Dean before he obeyed and headed to his own room.

A quick visit to the bathroom later he slipped under the covers of his bed. He hadn't dared to investigate them closely before he switched of the light. With a sigh he closed his eyes.

Victor lay in a bed in a motel room which was paid with a credit card that hadn't his or one of the Winchesters' name on it. And he felt only a little bit ashamed of it. What had he become? _A hunter_, whispered a little voice in his head.

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

A heavy knock on the door woke Victor in the morning. He looked around in confusion till he remembered where he was and why. The knocking became more demanding.

"Yeah, yeah. 'M awake." He shouted and immediately the knocking stopped. Which was probably a good thing because the door didn't look like it could take any more hits. Victor could already see the light of the morning sun through a crack.

"Take off in thirty minutes." Sam yelled through the closed door. Who knew this calm boy had the voice of a drill instructor? Victor rubbed his eyes. Considering their ex-marine father he shouldn't be surprised.

Then he looked around in his room for the first time. Yesterday his only thought had been to go to sleep as quick as possible. Now his head was clear and his ribs had calmed down to a low pondering and he was more aware of his surroundings. Water strains on the ceiling and the walls, the sheets smelled moldy and he would rather die than set a bare foot on the carpet. With a sigh he put his shoes on and went to examine the shower. It wasn't as bad as he had feared but he took the quickest shower in his life.

Victor was at the car ten minutes early.

A few minutes later a door opened and Dean stepped out. He looked much better with some color in his face and you know being conscious and all.

"Morning, Vic." Dean greeted him. When had _Vic_ become his official name, Victor wondered. Not that it bothered him. "Ready for some coffee?"

Just a little too cheerful, a little too much. Victor had questioned enough suspects in his career to recognize insecurity. And hadn't Sam warned him that his brother was a grumpy old grouch without his morning coffee?

"As long as you don't faint again." He answered with a grin.

"Dude, I didn't faint. Girls faint." Dean shot him a glare. Behind him Sam tried to keep a straight face. He really tried.

"Looked like fainting to me." When in hell did he get comfortable enough around the Winchester brothers to banter with them?

Dean turned to his brother for reassurance but Sam just hurried to the car his shoulders shaking.

"I'll drive." Dean announced and Sam let him this small victory. Apparently Dean was well enough so Sam didn't mind him behind the wheel. Victor however wasn't so sure about that. Not twelve hours ago Dean just collapsed and now he wanted to drive? Victor shook his head but got in the car without a word.

The whole drive Victor watched Dean closely despite the fact that from the back seat he could do nothing if things went south. But Sam did the same and he was close enough to grab the wheel if necessary. A few minutes later they stopped at a diner for breakfast and they were all still in one piece.

"Oh god." Dean grunted as he killed the engine. "Now I have to of them hovering over me." He caught Victor's eye through the mirror. "Stop it. I'm fine."

He shot a look towards his brother as if to dare him to say something then turned his attention back to Victor. "Besides, the way you're favoriting you left side you're the one not fine, Vic."

Victor bit back the _I'm fine_ he was just about to say. Damn, Dean was rubbing off on him.

They took their time with their breakfast neither of them eager to spent the day in the car. After he finished his meal Victor pulled out his wallet but was stopped by Sam.

"I got it." Sam threw some bills on the table.

"You already paid the room last night." Victor reminded him. Of course the waitress had to choose this moment for a coffee refill. Coffee spilled on the table while the poor girl looked bewildered between the three man and suddenly was very busy cleaning up the coffee.

"Sorry, I ..." She stumbled with red ears.

"I don't know them." Dean hurried to say. "Don't swing that way." He smiled his charming smile which wasn't exactly helping. With a face making a tomato looking pale she fled.

It took Victor a moment to realize what he just said. "That sounded wrong, didn't it?"

"Don't mind. You wouldn't believe how often we are mistaken for a gay couple." Sam reassured him. Thinking about it Victor could imagine that. Two good looking guys traveling together? Brothers wasn't the first thing coming to mind. He felt the waitress watching them on their way out.

"But a threesome is a new one." At least Dean had his fun.

They were on the road again and now Victor could smile about that little incident.

"By the way, Sam." He broke the silence. If you can call AC/DC blasting out off the speakers silence. "Why wouldn't you let me pay for breakfast?"

"As soon as you are on your own feet you'll need all the money you have." Sam answered after a second reminding him that this was a temporary thing. Just to teach him the basics. After that he was on his own. And he had to admit he had no idea how to get some cash. Technically he knew how to do a credit card fraud but he never thought he had to actually do it.

"Speaking of money." Dean spoke up. "We should find a place to restock some cash."

Sam just nodded. Apparently he knew exactly how to get some and where. The life of a hunter suddenly seemed a lot more complex than Victor had thought.

Yelling over the music wasn't his preferred way to have a conversation so he just leaned back. He would find out soon enough.

The next hours showed another difference between the lifestyle of the Winchesters and the one Victor had been used to. They spend nearly the whole day in the car and the brothers took turns in driving. Victor didn't even dared to offer to drive for a while. They made two stops for gas and some junk food and another two to stretch their legs. The latter however Victor suspected were for his benefit only. How could someone just sit in a car for hours straight?

It was interesting to listen to Dean's stories of past hunts – Victor wasn't quite sure how exaggerated they really were – or Sam's excerpts of the Encyclopedia of Weirdness like Dean called it. But after hours in the car it got boring.

So Victor let out a sigh when Dean finally stopped for the night. He didn't even complaint about the choice of accommodation. They stayed only long enough to drop their bag before they head out to a Bar&Grill. Judging by the heavy bikes and trucks in the lot this wasn't a place Victor would frequent but the Winchesters moved like they belonged there. They found a table in the corner not too far from the pool tables. Victor couldn't help it. He scanned the crowed, wondering who had a warrant out for arrest or was carrying a concealed weapon and found too many candidates for his liking. When he realized he was sitting with two of them at the same table he nearly burst out laughing.

"Having fun?" Dean asked with a raised eyebrow but Victor was saved from an answer by the waitress serving their dinner. Main ingredient: fried grease. After they finished their meals – Dean was the only one really enjoying it – they just sat there, nursing some beers and talking about nothing important. It was just like a nice little evening with some friends.

"Watch and learn." Dean suddenly stood up, wiggled his eyebrows towards Victor and strolled over to the pool tables. Victor shot Sam a questioning look but the boy just smiled and took another sip of his beer.

"He isn't really good at this." Victor commented after Dean had lost the second game, too. "He shouldn't play for money." Hadn't it been this morning that the Winchester mentioned they were short on money? Maybe they had to relay on Victor's stack sooner then he thought. But Sam didn't seemed concerned. That bastard just kept smiling.

The biker Dean was playing with and his two friends had payed for a round or two and by now Dean seemed slightly drunk. Scratch the slightly, Victor thought. And now there was real money on the table not just a few bills like in the games before.

And all of a sudden Dean could play.

"That damn bastard." Victor could only watch in awe as Dean cleaned the table as if it was nothing. His opponent grabbed his cue tight and didn't look happy at all.

"We should be ready for a quick retreat." Sam whispered behind Victor.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean calmly pocked the money before he hold up his hands. He smiled but the biker only adjusted his grip around the cue. Over the noise in the bar Victor couldn't hear the exchange between Dean and his new friend but when that biker threw a punch the meaning was clear. Dean however was prepared and ducked the punch easily.

Crap. All three of the bikers were around Dean's height but a lot bulkier.

Within seconds Sam was with Dean and Victor only a step behind. They would so spend the night in an hospital – or more likely with makeshift motel treatment – but he would be damned if he backed off now. Three against three, at least it was a fair fight, sort of.

Victor knew how to fight, of course he did. The FBI trained their people well but never with the intention to knock somebody out. So Victor knew how to secure somebody but he had no handcuffs to finish the job. A bar brawl was a whole new experience.

However he tried his best. Victor dodged a cue – all three of them were armed with those by now – and landed two punches himself. _They never tell you in the movies how you hurt own knuckles with that_, Victor thought. Anyhow it worked. Victor watched the guy stumble backwards over a table and going down. Distracted for a second he never saw the swing with the cue coming. Pain exploded in his already sore ribs and he was down on hands and knees. His vision grayed around the edges and he could only concentrate on breathing. From the corner of his eye he saw Sam taking down one of the guys with ease and a thud form his right told him that Dean had finished his part, too. Only the biker Victor had faced was getting back on his feet. With a precise move Sam knocked him out. Victor blinked. It was so easy to dismiss Sam. He looked just so young and innocent but this was the guy who took out two armed SWAT guys in the bank in Milwaukee.

"C'mon, Vic. Time to go." Dean hauled him to his feet and Victor bit back a whimper. It was embarrassing enough that he went down with one blow and the Winchesters didn't even get hit.

"You OK?" Outside the bar Sam turned back to his next-door-college-boy-self.

Victor nodded. "Sorry, got me off guard." The pain was back in his side and he had trouble breathing. His vision swam but he tried to stand on his own feet. But he was glad Dean was at his side to hold him upright. And Victor leaned into him only a little bit.

"We really should practice your hand-to-hand technique." Dean pointed out. "You can't let people jump you."

"Yeah, and you've never got the shit beaten out of you, Dean." Sam snorted. "I remember you were taken hostage by a thirteen year old girl."

"No, her father and her two older incest brothers put her in charge after they tied me up. That's a huge difference. And you were exactly where at that time?" Dean laughed lost in memories. Apparently he enjoyed this. When this were good memories for him Victor had no intention to find out how bad ones looked like. And if he had enough breath for words at the moment he would have asked about the story behind this.

"We check your ribs as soon as we get back to the motel." Sam continued ignoring his still grinning brother. Victor just gave another nod.

"Nothing broken but you'll get one hell of a bruise." Was Sam's diagnose after he examined Victors bare chest and side. "I'll warp it up, that should help with the pain."

The dressing looked professional and it stabilized his ribs and eased his breathing. Victor doubted a doctor could have done a better job.

"You have a lot experience with this." It wasn't a question.

"Comes with the job. You'll get used to it." Sam handed him his shirt. While he struggled with the fabric Victor recapped the events since his encounter with the Winchesters back at that motel. Since then Sam had been stitched up, Dean had suffered a concussion and Victor had been in need of medical attention three times. And not even with serious stuff. A self-inflicted cut to his arm and two times because of his damn ribs. Pathetic, wasn't it?

"Do you already regret taking me along?" He tried a half-smile but didn't meet Sam's eye.

"Nope." Came the response from Dean who was sitting at the table and counting his money. "It's actually kinda funny to see you on the floor."

"You were a bit under the weather in the first place." Sam assured him. "Give it a day or two to heal and you're up for every monster we come across."

"Just try to not get hit again."

"Thanks, Dean. I'll consider that." Victor shot back. At least the brothers didn't seem to be annoyed or tiered of him. So hopefully they would be still there in the morning and not leaving in the middle of the night. Not that Victor really expected that. For that they were to … responsible?

"So that's how you earn your money?" Victor changed the subject. "Beside the credit cards?"

"It's an easy way." Dean answered with a shrug. "And it doesn't have to end with a fight."

"As you know credit cards leave a trail to follow." Sam added and snagged a few bills from the table. Dean's protest was halfhearted at best.

"So I'll better learn how to play pool, or what?" Victor had played once in a while with some friends but he had never been good at it.

"It helps. Poker is a good thing, too." Dean put the money in his pocket before Sam could get any more of it. "On the other hand you can always steal what you need. But I recommend that as your last option. Cops don't like it."

"I wonder why."

Dazed with painkillers Victor slept like a baby and woke early in the morning. A shower helped his abused muscles and he was ready to go when Sam knocked at his door.

The remaining journey went by with mindless talking and the usual boredom of a car ride. Back at the FBI Victor had his map where he had marked every sighting of the Winchester brothers but until now he never realized the endless hours they had to spend in a car. And this was a short journey. According to their files they sometimes crossed half the country to get to their next hunt. Which could always turn out to be just your nice little serial killer from the neighborhood as Dean phrased it.

When they finally took quarter in a motel which would be their base of operation for the next couple of days Victor didn't even complained about the run down place. He was only glad that he didn't have to get back in the car the next day.

"So far there had been three victims." Sam summed up the case. "I think we should talk to their people first to get a picture of the situation."

"Sounds good." Dean put on the jacket of his suit. It was still kinda disturbing to see him in that kind of outfit. He looked almost reliable. "Vic and I go check out the first one. What was her name?"

Sam searched in his papers. In the last half an hour he had put together a basic file some agents at the FBI would be jealous of. "Patricia Guzman. Here's the address of her parents, she lived with them."

Dean stuffed the paper in his pocket along with something that looked very much like a badge.

_OK_, Victor thought. _It's time to get serious._ It was one thing to know they would impersonate an officer but to actually stand next to Dean while he did it? That was a whole different league.

"Oh, by the way. This is for you." Dean handed him another badge. It looked almost like the one he had given to his boss not long ago. Victor hesitated to open it. He wouldn't be just a bystander. He was going to impersonate an officer himself. He was going to commit a serious crime.

If he crossed this line there would be no turning back. Victor felt the brothers watching him. Of course they knew what this meant.

Victor opened the badge and examined the picture. It was the same he knew from his old one – wherever Dean got that from – but the name wasn't his.

"Who the hell is Dennis DeYoung?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Who the hell is Dennis DeYoung?"

"According to this badge, you are." Dean answered with a smirk.

"Smartass."

Minutes later they stand in front of a house. Nothing special, just an ordinary house in an ordinary neighborhood. Victor however eyed it as if it was about to eat him alive.

He had done this before, a million times, but then he had a badge in his pocket which had his real name on it.

"Let's get this rolling." Dean patted his shoulder and rang the door bell. Victor had just enough time to plaster a professional smile on his face before the door opened.

"Yes?" A woman asked. She had hard lines of grief on her face and she clutched her cardigan with a trembling fist as if her life depended on it. She had lost her daughter not three weeks ago. This part of the job Victor had hated even when he had been a real FBI agent. But questions had to be asked as long as the memory was still fresh. It put the poor people through hell but it was necessary.

Apparently Dean thought the same way and didn't let himself fell for the pity he might felt. He introduced them as FBI agents and a minute later they sat at the kitchen table while Mrs Guzman poured them some coffee. Not that they wanted coffee but the poor woman needed something to do with her hands.

"I don't know why we have to go over this again." She said whipping a tear from her eye. "The sheriff already questioned me and my husband. Shouldn't you be out there and find that bastard who took my baby away?"

"I'm sorry to put you through this again but new evidence has turned up and this is a case of the FBI now." Dean lied smoothly. Victor sat back and let Dean do the interview who went thorough through the w-questions. Now wonder he was so confident when he was the one in the interrogation room. Dean knew exactly what he was doing, he surely could get the information he needed from a much tougher suspect than Mrs Guzman. Who for one was a witness and not a suspect and second wanted to help in every way she could. Which wasn't much.

Her daughter Patricia went for a jog one morning and didn't come back. Two days later her body was found in the woods. Stabbed to death and eyes cut out. At that detail Mrs Guzman broke into tears.

Back outside Victor took a deep breath. "That was a tough one. Hate when they cry."

Dean loosened his tie. "It was necessary."

"I know. In case you forgot that part of the job isn't new for me." They got back in the car. "So what's next? The other victim?"

"Let me check in with Sam first." He gave Sam a call and passed the information they just got. It wasn't much anyway. "Okay, Sam is near the third victim's place so that's his job."

"And what will we do?" The way Dean smirked at him Victor wouldn't like the answer.

"We'll talk to the sheriff." With a growl the engine came to life and Metallica blasted out of the speakers.

"Are you nuts?" Victor shouted over the noise and got another grin. "You are a wanted criminal. Impersonating an FBI agent. We go in there we'll not coming back out."

"It's all about confidence. Relax and everything will be fine." Maybe Victor should punch him.

If he had been nervous before Victor nearly shit his pants when he followed Dean into the sheriff's office. This was suicidal but Dean didn't seem to care. So Victor did his best to at least look like he didn't wish to be somewhere else. If the sheriff noticed his sweaty palm he didn't show it.

"Why is the FBI poking around in my county?" The sheriff hooked his thumbs into the belt loops under his impressive belly. His hands were barely visibly but the intention of this posture was clear.

Dean spread his hand in an universal gesture of helplessness. "You have three women killed the same way like those back in the seventieth."

"If you think it's the same guy, do the math." His belly wobbled while he snorted. "He has to be in a retirement home by now. This is a weirdo who is too engaged in local history. This is a local problem which we can handle by ourselves. We don't need your help."

"Hey, you know that and we know that." Dean gestured between the three of them. "But my boss?" He clicked his tongue. "So why don't you give us copies of the current case and the files from the seventieth? Then we'll be busy reading the next days while you can catch the killer."

Half an hour later Victor carried a pile of paper to the car while Dean pocked the secretary's number she had given to him just in case he needed help with … anything. The life of a hunter had his moments, Victor had to admit.

"That wasn't so bad, wasn't it?"

"Only if you have a masochistic tendency and a pair of brass balls."

"Guilty as charged." Oh boy, Dean had actually fun taking the risk. "Let's see what Sam dug up."

They found Sam in the library occupied with newspaper articles. Victor took a seat next to him and started to go through the files they just got. They had to find a serial killer. Familiar territory for Victor, he could do that.

"Where's Dean?" After an hour reading Victor realized he hadn't seen the older Winchester in a while.

Sam didn't bother to look around. "With the gun magazines if he hasn't found a hot librarian by now." He pointed at the screen. "This part of the job bores him to death. He avoids it whenever he can."

"Found anything yet?" Victor asked and rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand.

"I'm not even sure if the string of murders back then has anything to do with what happens now. The victims are the same type – blond single females in their early twenties – but that's all they have in common." He stretched his arms. "Accept the way they died, of course."

Victor went through his notes, he could see what Sam meant. "Yeah, in the seventieth the victims disappeared from several bars and were found near the river."

"Now we have Patricia Guzman who disappeared from a running trail, Lilly Whittaker who's car was found here." Sam pointed at a map on which he had marked relevant spots. "And her body here. And Cynthia Haley who was on her way to friend." He tapped at another mark.

"Do you know who owns this area?" Victor circled around the marks. It was a wide area mostly forest.

"An Anne Libbey. Nothing suspicious about her so far, ninety-three, lives in an retirement home in Florida. No violent death on her ground as far as I know." He ran his fingers through his bangs. Victor smiled in sympathy. He knew how frustrating it could be to stare at a file knowing that the answer was there right in front of his nose but he couldn't find it.

Then something rang a bell in his mind. "Did you say Libbey?"

"Yeah?"

Victor went back a few pages. "Libbey, Libbey. It was here somewhere." Finally he found the right page. "Donald B. Libbey. He was a good friend of the first victim. Interrogated once but they found nothing on him."

"That's a point to start." With this new angle Sam started to type furiously.

"Using the FBI data base this would be a lot easier." Victor said with a wistful sigh. Now he had to do the exact same work like he had been used to however with a lot more limited equipment. It sucked.

"We have to do it the old-fashioned way." And Sam did. It took him over an hour but he finally found what they were looking for.

"Donald B. Libbey." Sam read. "Born 1951, declared dead '85 after he vanished in the mid-seventieth roundabout when the murders stopped. His house and property went to his aunt Anne." Sam shot Victor a grin. "Congratulations, looks like you found your first ghost."

Victor couldn't help it this compliment made him feel a little squishy inside. Just a little bit. He could do more than get beaten up, who knew?

They gathered their stuff.

"Now for the hard part." Sam let out a sigh. "Where the hell is that brother of mine?"


	5. Chapter 5

They found Dean with a librarian – pretty little thing but barely legal – their heads stuck together and the girl giggling with blushed cheeks.

Before they left Victor noticed a pice of paper wandering into Dean's pocket. How many numbers could a man get in only a few hours? He briefly wondered if Dean intended to use one of those numbers but decided it was none of his business. However, when Victor spent the evening with Sam and piles of paper and no sign of Dean the answer to that question was clear.

"Which one do you think?" Victor broke the silence. The letters started to swim in front of his eyes.

"What?" Sam stopped typing and peered at him over his laptop.

"Your brother." Victor clarified. "Is he with the secretary from the sheriff's office or with the librarian?"

"Believe me, there are things out there you really don't want to know." Sam rubbed his eyes and shut the laptop. "I don't know about you but I'll hit the hay."

"Shouldn't we wait for Dean?" Under normal circumstances Victor wouldn't bother with another man's whereabouts but there was a homicidal something out there. Granted, Dean was not the killer's victim type but Victor couldn't help he felt a bit uneasy knowing Dean out there alone. Anything could happen. There was a whole world of scary things out there.

Sam however kept calm maybe because he was used to this shit.

"Don't worry." Sam shot him a knowing look. "He's a big boy. He'll be fine. Stumble in around three in the morning a loopy grin on his face and stinking like sex."

The next day Dean slept in. So it was in the early afternoon when they pulled into the barely visibly driveway of the Libbey's property. Apparently they were the first visitors in ages. Mother Nature had made a good job in taking her territory back. Twigs and branches scrapped along the car and with every sound Dean winced.

"That's it." Dean stopped the car. "We walk before I ruin the paintwork completely." He got out of the car and ran an apologizing hand over the hood of his baby. "It's OK, baby. I didn't mean to, I'll make it better as soon as we ganked this son of a bitch. I promise."

"So." Ignoring his brother Sam opened the trunk and handed Victor a duffel bag to hold open for their equipment. "If this Donald Libbey was the serial killer back in the seventieth and he suddenly stopped ..."

"No serial killer just stops." Victor interrupted knowing very well that he was lectured or maybe tested. "They only stop when they are no longer able to murder like when they get injured, imprisoned or they die."

"Exactly." Sam snapped a shotgun and dropped it into the bag. Along with a canister of salt, some lighter fluid and two things he called EMF meters. "In our cases they most likely died. And the only way to get rid of them is to find the body and salt'n'burn it." With a grin he closed the hidden compartment.

"I really hope we'll find him in the house." Sam peered around the wilderness. "It'd be a pain in the ass to find a forty year old body in this boondocks."

"Amen to that."

It turned out that _in the house_ would probably be a pain in the ass, too. When they entered the overgrown area which had been a lawn and a gravel parking space they stood a moment in silence.

"Awesome. Old school haunted house." Dean was the first who found his voice. "Think anybody's home?"

Not as big as the Overlook Hotel from _The Shining_ but it got the same vibes. Victor shuddered when he stepped into the shadow of the house.

The door was locked which however was no problem for Dean and his lock pick. A minute later they stood in the lobby. Dry leaves scrunched under Victor's shoes – a window had been shattered – otherwise the room was still furnished as if the owner would be back any minute. He should come back with a big feather duster, though.

"Anne Libbey tried to sell the house a few times but when nobody wanted to buy it she just left it like it was." Sam informed them. He had dropped the bag and handed everybody a shotgun.

"Okay. You two search this level and I look around upstairs. Regroup in half an hour." With the gun in one hand and an EMF meter in the other Dean was half up the stairs before Victor even could think about to protest.

"Little bossy, isn't he?"

"And short." Sam added while he flipped the second meter on. Red lights flashed but leveled down to one or two. If they light all up they would be in trouble, Sam had informed him earlier. Which kind of trouble he hadn't been sure about not even if they were dealing with a ghost or not. But this was their best lead. So Victor took the meter and had an close eye on the lights. Not that the alarm sound wouldn't do the trick.

They would cover more ground if they separate but Victor had seen too many horror movies to even suggest it. He was the rookie here and he had no death wish. And in horror movies the black guy was always the first to die. So no, thank you.

Every time the lights flashed and the meter started to whine Victor startled but Sam was decent enough to not call him on that. Efficiently they swiped through one room after another. The house was build for a big family with a brigade of servants and there were way to many rooms for Victor's liking.

After three regroups Victor was covered in dust, cobwebs and dried mice shit and he had long lost every sense of direction.

"Another study." Sam announced after a quick look around. "Maybe we'll find something worth looking into."

Victor let out a sigh. The most interesting thing they had found so far where a hidden stack of Playboy magazines so old not even Dean found them appealing. So he said. However, he'd picked them up for _further investigation_.

While Sam went through the desk Victor stood guard his shotgun firm in hand.

"One of the drawers is locked." Sam's head disappeared behind the desk and Victor could hear him working on the lock.

They had no warning at all. One second all was boring silent the next second the meter whined, a woman appeared and Sam crashed into a bookcase.

"Sam!" Victor raised his shotgun and fired at the apparition but the woman flickered out of the line of fire. She was over Sam in a blink hands on his throat. Victor fired again and the woman vanished into thin air. In a second he was at the younger man's sight helping him to sit up. Books lay around him but thankfully the shelf itself hadn't crashed down. "You OK?"

Catching his breath Sam gave him a thumbs up.

"So, that was a ghost." Victors brain finally caught up with what had just happened.

"Yeah, but for a Donald it looked a little to feminine." Sam got up and grabbed his shotgun. Somewhere in the house another gun was fired followed by a rumble like big furniture were thrown around.

"Dean!" Sam went of running but didn't even made it to the door. The ghost was back. She grabbed him mid air and crashed him into the wall.

Despite the fact that she was two heads smaller than Sam she had no problem holding him tight both hands on his throat again. Victor couldn't see her face only her long red hair as she leaned forward to Sam. His defense was already weakening.

A disappointing click reminded Victor that he had already used his two shotgun shells and hadn't bothered reloading. Where was Sam's gun?

Victor dove for the gun Sam had dropped and fired in the general direction of the ghost without even aiming for it. His shot had an echo from the door.

The apparition hadn't fully vanished when Dean dashed through it to get to his brother. Like a rag doll Sam crushed to the floor but Dean was there to at least prevent his head from dashing against the wooden floor.

"Sammy?" The Panic in his voice got right through Victor's heart. Sam coughed a few times but nodded reassuring. Angry red marks blossomed on his skin.

"That was weird." He finally croaked.

Dean sat back on his heels and shook his head. "A ghost tried to choke you to death. Looked pretty normal to me. What's with the choking anyway? You got a kink you didn't tell me but every monster knows about?"

Sam shot him a glare of annoyance. "How many ghost have ever apologized for trying to kill you while they were trying to kill you?"


	6. Chapter 6

"Who was that?" Dean asked shotgun ready but the ghost didn't come back.

"Don't know. Not Donald Libbey, that's for sure." Sam answered peering around but everything kept quiet.

"So we got this whole case wrong?" Victor tried to keep his thoughts on the case and not on the homicidal ghost. Sticking to the things he knew hold the little voice in his head at bay that wanted to run around in circles and scream: "A ghost, oh my god, that was a ghost. A real ghost."

"Nah, met Donny upstairs. Got a little pissed off when I found this." Dean hold up a leather bound notebook.

"Make that majorly pissed off." Sam corrected looking at his brother closely. "Either that or you got a new brand of styling gel."

Victor followed Sam's line of sight and spotted some black stuff in Dean's hair.

"What?" Dean's searching hand fond the spot and he probed some of it between his thumb and index finger. "Is that what I think it is?"

Sam nodded.

"That's just gross."

"What's that?" Curious Victor stepped closer. The stuff looked like some kind of coal tar or something you use to caulk your windows with.

"Ectoplasm." Sam explained while Dean tried to get it out of his hair with questionable result. Now it plastered his hair to his head in a palm sized area and it wasn't getting smaller by his frantic rubbing. Maybe taking a shower or better three could wash it out otherwise a straight razor could probably help.

"You have to be a majorly pissed off spirit to produce ectoplasm." Sam completed his explanation.

"Is it poisonous or acidly or something?" Victor asked. By the way Dean wiped it off at his jeans it was neither but better save than sorry, right? He only knew ectoplasm from that Ghostbusters movie but he doubted they got that detail right in a Hollywood comedy film.

"Just nasty." Sam had already buried his nose in the notebook. He flipped through the hand written pages his face hardened with every word he read.

"What is it?" Victor tried to read over his shoulder but there was no way to look over the shoulder of a Sam Winchester. So he only got glimpses of scribbled hand writing and scratches of eyes. Eyes on every page.

"This is some kind of diary. A journal of his murders." Sam shut the book. "He seemed kinda obsessed with eyes."

"He took his victims eyes." Victor reminded him. "Kind of a trophy if you ask me. Maybe a eyes-are-the-window-of-the-soul thing."

"I can only repeat myself, demons I get people are crazy." Dean gave up to save his hair and grabbed the book. "Is your red haired cougar in there? She wasn't really Donny's type."

"Right." Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Judging by the skirt and the blouse she wore I would say she died some time in the seventies but that's the only thing connecting her to Donald Libbey. That and the fact that she is haunting his house, of course. Otherwise she was too old, had the wrong hair color and she wasn't single."

"How do you know that?" Victor had to ask. In an other life the Winchesters could have made quite a career in any agency.

"Wedding ring."

"She was choking you and you noticed her wedding ring?" And Victor had thought of himself as a good observer. Sam just shrug.

"And she had both of her eyes and I didn't see any injuries so she wasn't stabbed to death." He finished his report.

They stood in silence for a moment.

"Dean, you said Libbey came after you when you found his book." Victor tried to put the pieces together. As long as he treated this like any other case he ever worked he could ignore the fact that this was totally insane.

"Yeah?"

"And the mysterious woman …"

"Scully." Dean interrupted.

"Scully? Why Scully?" Sam and Victor looked at each other but they both couldn't follow that train of thoughts.

"Mysterious red haired hot cougar woman is to long." Dean explained as if he was talking to a pair of five-year-old. "So we call her Scully."

Sam shot his brother a look but said nothing.

"OK, so … Scully … came after Sam when he tried to open the drawer …" Victor didn't need to finish his thought. Seconds later he and Dean stood guard with the shotguns ready while Sam worked on the lock. They had to shoot Scully a few times before he got it open. She always went straight for Sam ignoring the other two men. Sam on the other hand kept his eyes on the lock completely trusting his brother to protect him from the angry spirit. When she appeared near Victor he could her constant mumble of _I'm sorry. I don't wonna kill you. Sorry. Sorry. I'm so sorry._

"Oh, oh." Came Sam's voice from behind the desk.

"We are in trouble_ oh, oh_ or we all gonna die_ oh, oh_?" Dean blasted Scully away with a well aimed shot. _I'm sor..._

"Maybe both." Sam carefully put a book on the desk. Victor had never used the word grimoire in his life but now it was the one coming to mind closely followed by folio and Necronomicon. However he was pretty sure the latter was just fiction but what could he be sure of nowadays?

"Tell me that's not what I think it is." Dean demanded.

"It's not what you think it is." Sam answered as requested. He read the title – some Latin Victor guessed but it could be Swahili as far as he knew. "It's just some ninth century old world really old school serious black magic book. Bobby is looking for an exemplar for over twenty years now."

"Great, now you have a birthday present for him." Dean grimaced and looked around. "I think Scully gave up." They waited a minute but the ghost didn't come back.

"How serious are we talking about?" Dean asked.

Sam opened the book like it was about to explode. "I would say we have a big player in town. This isn't stuff you just fool around with. You get it wrong and you'll die in a really nasty way."

Dean thought about it for a second then shook his head. "Donny wasn't a big player. Haven't seen any salt, sigils or runes around."

"This is the only book on an occult topic I've seen so far." Sam added. "No altar or any utensils for witchcraft either. This whole house just screams normal."

"So if he fooled around with this." Victor made a vague gesture towards the book because he had no idea what it was that Libbey could have fooled around with. "And he got it wrong it could be the reason for his disappearance?"

"Absolutely." Both Winchesters answered in unison, Sam didn't even looked up from the book.

"So when he died, disappeared or whatever while he did … something." Victor didn't even want to know the details. "He most likely didn't tidied up afterward. So were is the mess?"

"Don't know, but I think we'll find Scully there, too." Sam had opened the book on a marked page. He didn't look happy about what he was reading. "If I interpret this right she was an essential part of a ritual."

"Human sacrifice?" Dean spit out the words with disgust. "What did he try to do?"

Sam didn't answer for a minute while he read the text Victor assumed to be written in Latin.

"With this ritual you can basically create a spirit which collects souls for you." Sam finally answered. "Which makes sense, I think."

"How can something like that possibly make sense?" Dean asked the question Victor had in mind.

"Look." Sam sounded just like that one teacher Victor had in fifth grade. God, he had hated that bitch. "Libbey was obsessed with eyes. Like Vic said they are metaphorical spoken the window to the soul. So, not only taking the eyes but the soul too that would be, I don't know, the ultimate trophy?"

"That is just sick." Dean shuddered.

Victor thought about it for a moment. It did make sense in some twisted really sick way. "I don't know about the occult stuff." He admitted. "But I know about psychotic killers. He kept his victims at least for two days. Somewhere he had a room where he could play with them without being disturbed. Where nobody could hear the screaming. Where he felt save and comfortable. I bet that's where he tried this ritual. We should check the basement."


	7. Chapter 7

The basement wasn't just a basement. It was a whole floor by itself. First they found servant quarters, a wine cellar, storage rooms for food – now all rotten and crumbled to dust – and racks over racks with canned food. Victor picked up a can. The inscription told him the pears inside would be still eatable in twenty years.

"Was he afraid of a third world war or what?" Victor placed the can back on the shelf and wiped his dusty hand on his jeans.

The beam of Sam's flashlight ghosted over the rack. "This area is common for heavy winters and the house is isolated so it makes sense to be prepared in case you get snowed in."

"The right preparation would be to travel south. There's no snow in Florida." Dean pointed out. The way he said it it wasn't a joke. As if it was the way of things. He didn't like the weather? He hit the road and drove somewhere he liked it better. Victor wondered if Dean knew the concept of home in more than just a theoretical way. From what he knew about the brothers – the records of their childhood where scratchy at best – probably not.

Obviously the storage rooms had been in use at the time Libbey disappeared so the dust and cobwebs were bad but not that bad. Deeper into the basement dust covered everything with a thick layer which got raised by sudden movements. Victor learned quickly to set his feet properly. And after he ran into a veil of cobwebs he learned to avoid those, too.

These rooms had been used for over a century to dump all the junk nobody could use anymore but had been to expensive at it's time to throw away.

"I bet we can find the Amber Room somewhere in here." Sam let out a sigh.

"The what?" Dean spit out a dust bunny. His hair was gray and plastered to his head by a mixture of sweat and grit even the spot of dried ectoplasm was covered up by it.

"A chamber with amber decorations in the tsar's palace in Saint Petersburg. Got lost after the second world war." Victor answered before Sam could open his mouth.

"Et tu, Brute?" Dean shone his flashlight right into Victor's face.

"Sorry." Victor tried to look a least a little bit sheepish while he squinted into the bright light. "When I can't sleep I watch the Discovery Chanel. Since I got your case I watched a lot of documentaries."

Dean stared at him for a long minute then shook his head. "How can you even loose a whole room?"

"That's exactly what we are here to find out." Sam brought them back on their task not without a grin in Victor's direction.

After they had checked the obvious rooms for a torture chamber with no result they were now on search for a hidden room. Which meant they had to crawl behind closets and probe the floor boards on their knees. To make it more fun the sun had went down an hour ago so the small windows were useless and they had only their flashlights to enlighten their surroundings. At least the ghosts left them alone. For now.

"Tell me again why I volunteered for this job." Victor begged after he checked another solid wall.

"Because you are an idiot." Dean answered without missing a beat.

"Right, how could I forget." He brushed a spider from his sleeve and turned towards the next wall. At this rate it would take forever to search the basement. And they didn't even know if there was anything worth finding.

"Got it." Sam shouted from the other room. Dean and Victor breathed a sigh of relief.

"About time." Dean muttered when he followed Victor through the door. Two steps inside they stopped and let the beams of their flashlights wander around. Sam was kneeling in the far corner nearly hidden behind a dresser. The room was stuffed with furniture some covered with white sheets others only powdered with dust. To get into that corner Sam must have climbed over a broken table, some chairs and at least two sideboards but the layer of dust was undisturbed. With his light Victor searched on the floor for Sam's footsteps but Dean was way ahead. By the time Victor realized there was a hidden path trough all that stuff the older Winchesters was halfway through the room. Victor hurried to catch up.

"It's a trap door." Sam pointed at the floor. From his position Victor couldn't even see the floor around Sam. If they hadn't actually been looking for it they would have never found it. However that was what it was build for. Libbey had wanted his privacy.

Sam tried to pull it open. "Locked." He informed. "From the inside."

"Figures. One of those days." Dean seemed rather annoyed than surprised.

They had a split second warning before Scully was back. The EMF meters whined and the flashlights flickered and Scully was on Sam's throat again. Before she could do any damage Dean had blasted her away.

"That bitch starts to get on my nerves." He muttered and got her good when she materialized once again. Without really looking he started to reload his gun.

"On mine too." Sam rubbed his throat. Dark bruises already marked his skin and it would only get worse in the morning. Victor winced in sympathy. Eating maybe even drinking would be a bitch for several days.

Still occupied with his gun Dean never saw Libbey coming. The man appeared right behind him, a knife in hand ready to stab him in the back. Without thinking Victor fired.

Dean's scream mixed with the gunshot. At first Victor thought he had hit him with the rock salt – which he maybe did but that was not the problem. The problem was that Dean was on his knees. The problem was the stab wound in his back. The problem was the blood soaking the fabric.

"Dean!" Sam was at his brother's side in a second. Kneeling beside him he was low enough for Victor to shoot Libbey over their heads who had just decided to continue the party. This time Victor could see the spirits face. Ectoplasm oozed out of his eyes, nose and mouth. Kinda like that Eric Draven character from _The Crow_, Victor thought before Libbey disappeared in a blast of rock salt.

"Get him away from the trap door." Victor shouted although he had no idea if that was what triggered the ghost. But Sam nodded, grabbed his brother and howled him out of the corner.

"That bastard is toast." At least Dean was well enough to plan his revenge. If he could talk maybe his lungs were still intact. And his heart apparently too._ Yeah, and maybe he will just shrug it off as if nothing ever happened._ Victor grit his teeth.

"How bad is it?" He asked while Sam ripped the layers of clothing away. The back of Dean's jacket had black strains of ectoplasm on it. And there was more blood.

"Hospital bad." Sam taped a dressing on Dean's back and kept up the pressure. "You with me?" He asked his brother who looked way to pale. However he tried to smirk which turned into a painful grimace.

"'M fine."

"Yeah, whatever." Sam looked up to Victor. "Take his other side and then let's get outa here."

They took Dean in the middle – who insisted he could walk on his one but neither Sam nor Victor were willing to give it a chance – and together they headed for the exit. At least the ghosts didn't come back. Maybe they _were_ triggered by actions Libbey didn't like.

It felt like an eternity but they finally made it back to the stairs.

"Go ahead and open the door." Sam tightened his grip around his brother's waist so Victor could let go of him. The last few steps Dean had gotten heavier and Victor felt a sticky wetness he didn't want to think about. _He is losing to much blood._

"Who had closed it anyway?" He asked on his way up.

"No, please no." Sam's voice was barely a whisper and Victor had just enough time to wonder what he was afraid of when the door didn't budge.

"It's stuck." Victor rammed his shoulder against the door. "Something is blocking it." He couldn't remember if there had been something next to the door which could have fallen over. It had to be really heavy to block the door like that.

"Come down here." Sam maneuvered Dean into a sitting position against the wall. "You'll never get that door open." He checked the wound and draw his hand back bloody. "Damn, it's still bleeding."

Sam pressed once again on the dressing to stop the bleeding.

"Butcher." Dean clawed his hands around Sam's free hand and forearm but he didn't try to push his brother away.

"Why can't I open the door?" They had to get outa here. Dean needed a hospital, this was nothing they could handle by themselves. Plus there were homicidal ghosts down here.

"Supernatural lock down." Dean shifted and bit back a groan. "We're not going anywhere."


	8. Chapter 8

"Ghosts can do that?" Victor fought the urge to try the door again. He would only look stupid. Sam had said it wouldn't budge and he was the expert on this. With his bleeding – dying – brother in his arms Sam would do everything to open that door. If he saw even the slightest possibility to break through Sam would be half way to the car by now. But he only spend a longing look upstairs, sighed and concentrated on his brother.

"If they are strong enough." With one hand Sam steadied his brother at the shoulder while he kept the pressure on the wound with the other.

"For how long?" Maybe they could sit this out. A couple of minutes they could sit out. A couple of hours not so much. _Fuck, we don't have one minute to waste._ Victor gritted his teeth.

"Too long." Sam looked over his shoulder. "Keep an eye out for Libbey, we don't need any more surprises."

Victor nodded and tightened his grip on the shotgun. How many shells had they left?

"We must get rid of him." Dean stated the obvious. Sam's jaw clenched a determined look on his face.

Hell, this boy was barely twenty-three. He should fooling around with his girlfriend, enjoying his life and his biggest fear should be not getting the well paid job he deserved. Instead he was sitting here on his brother's side – who too was way to young for this shit – with his brother's blood on his hands not knowing if one of them would be still alive in the morning.

"I think it stopped bleeding." Sam let out a sigh of relief.

Dean's face was way to pale, his freckles stood out even beneath the sweaty dirt on his face. They were all covered head to toe in that dreck. Not a good thing to combine with an open wound. It was only a matter of time till infection stroke. And that was without the joy of possible internal damage.

"He always sends in Scully first." Dean's voice however was still strong.

"She doesn't like it but has to do what he wants." Sam nodded chewing on his bottom lip.

"The door is locked from the inside."

After stating the obvious facts they went silent for long minutes. Victor couldn't help it he felt left out. Beside a hiss from Dean when he breathed the wrong way they were silently lost in their own thoughts but that was only on the surface. Beneath that on a deeper level Victor could nearly feel them plotting. They had a plan but judging from the look on their faces neither of them liked it.

"OK, let's do this." Dean shifted in an attempt to get up. He was stopped by the pain – expressed with some colorful language – and Sam's hand on his shoulder.

"Whoa dude. You're not going anywhere."

Dean slammed back against the wall but they never broke eye contact.

"As hell I am." His eyes drifted in and out of focus betraying his attempt to act like he was fine. "You need backup and you know it."

"I have backup." With a nod Sam reminded his brother of Victor's presence. Dean snored but didn't say anything. He didn't have to. Dean didn't trust him. It kinda hurt but Victor could see where it came from. The brothers never had anybody in their life they could trust. Maybe there father at times when he was around and maybe Bobby. Victor however was practically a stranger, he hadn't earned their trust. Not yet.

"I'm not here to just stand around and look pretty." Victor tried to sound confident. It didn't help that he had no idea what the brothers where up to.

"That's Dean's part." Sam countered. "You'll sit here in a circle of salt. You hear me, Dean? For once, stay put."

"Sam."

"Dean."

"I don't like it."

"Me neither."

Sam ended the discussion by rummaging through the bag. He dug out one of the salt canisters and poured a circle around Dean. While his brother was busy Dean grabbed Victor's arm and dragged him down to eye-level.

"You let him die, I swear I'll kill you. And if I have to haunt your ass, I will kill you."

The fingers around Victor's forearm were cold and sweaty but the grip was strong. Dean meant it.

_Because I have to trust you out there. I'm going to put my life in your hands. I'm going to put Sam's life in your hands._ The words echoed through Victor's mind. Back at Bobby's Dean had said this right before the shooting competition. The emphasis on _Sam's life_ hadn't gone past Victor. That it would become so literally so soon he hadn't expected.

"Fair enough." Victor agreed. Above them Sam rolled his eyes.

"You know, I'm capable of looking after myself once in a while, Dean." There was no heat behind his words, it sounded more like affection and a little bit annoyed.

"Not on my watch." Dean's breathing had become more labored in the last few minutes. Whatever they were up to they better did it quick. Apparently Sam thought the same.

"Just stay put and be ready for a quick escape, Dean." He tucked his jacked around his brother's slummed shoulders. Victor handed him his own to stuff it between Dean's back and the cold wall. It would be better for Dean to sit on something else than the dump floor but Victor wouldn't dare to move him more than necessary. The bleeding had just stopped.

"So what's the plan?" Victor asked after they had made it as comfortable for Dean as possible.

Sam threw the bag over his shoulder. He had left the zipper open so he could reach the containers of salt and lighter fluid easily. "Convince Scully to open the trap door for us."

Victor blinked. He opened his mouth and blinked again.

"That's the plan?" He finally managed to bring out the words.

"That's the plan." With a last glance at his brother Sam straightened his shoulders and headed toward the doorway. Victor hurried to catch up with him. On their way back deeper into the basement Sam explained the plan. Victor's job would be to fight off Libbey while Sam convinced Scully to help them. With her hands on his throat. Once the door was open they would get in, burn the remains and get out. Easy enough.

"What can possibly go wrong?" Victor didn't bother to hide the sarcasm. This plan was stupid. Suicidal.

"You got a better plan now would be the right moment to share."

Of course Victor didn't have a better plan. So he ended up two steps inside the room, shotgun ready just like half an hour before. Sam made his way through the room.

What if probing the trap door didn't trigger the ghost? What if it did? Victor wasn't sure which option he preferred.

As it turned out it did trigger them. Them, plural. Sam wasn't even near the far corner when Scully launched into him. Fighting off her hands from his throat they stumbled backwards and Sam nearly impaled himself on Libbey's knife. Victor blasted Libbey away but was damned to watch the struggle between Sam and Scully.

_I'm sorry. I don't wanna kill you. Sorry. Sorry. I'm so sorry. _Her voice was barely a whisper but Victor didn't need to actually hear her.

"We can stop him." Sam grunted and peeled her fingers from his skin. "Open the trap doo..." He was on his back, fighting for every breath. Yeah, there had to be a catch. Persuade a ghost to do something for you while you were getting strangled by said ghost didn't even work out in theory. They should have noticed that. Damn.

"We can stop him." Victor repeated Sam's words although he wasn't sure they were true. They better had to be. "But you have to open the trap door for us."

Libbey reappeared – this time behind Victor – and vanished a second later in a loud mixture of gunfire, Victor's gasp of surprise and a disappointed shriek from the ghost. After that Victor made sure he had a solid wall behind him.

"Open the door and we'll do the rest." He promised. Scully was kneeling over an alarming motionless Sam, her hands tight around his throat but her eyes were on Victor.

He tried to reload his gun without actually looking at it – damn, how did the Winchesters do that? – while he repeated the mantra of "open the door, open the door ..."

Rule of three. Three minutes without air. How long since Sam's last breath? It felt like an eternity but it was probably less than a minute. It had to be less than a minute.

Finally he snapped the gun and aimed at Scully. "Please, open the door for us. Please." He couldn't wait any longer. Victor pulled the trigger.


	9. Chapter 9

"Shit. Sam!" Frantically Victor searched for a pulse digging his fingers into the abused skin of Sam's throat. For long seconds he only felt his own heartbeat and harsh breathing but then he found a strong pulse.

"Good, that's good." He hold his fingers in place for a few seconds longer just to make sure. That was when he noticed that Sam wasn't breathing.

"C'mon, don't do this to me." _Three minutes, three minutes._ _Three minutes without air. _Like a mantra the words echoed through his mind. Tilting Sam's head he opened the airways and took in a deep breath to give to Sam.

"Do that and I'll shoot you myself." Sam's voice was raspy. He coughed but it came out as a weak wheeze.

"You scared the shit out of me." Victor laughed and it sounded only a little bit hysterical.

"Did it work?" The words sounded like Sam was chewing on broken glass. He pushed himself up on his elbows clearly fighting the dizziness. Victor shook his head and Sam fell back with his eyes closed. His lips were moving but except for a squeaking sound he was silent.

"Don't speak." If the expression on Sam's face was anything to go by even breathing hurt. Victor patted him on the shoulder. "Is there a plan B?" Sam didn't respond. They were so screwed.

Suddenly the world exploded into a cacophony of different noises. The meters whined. An inhuman howl. A gunshot. The screaming of metal on metal.

Out of the corner of his eye Victor caught sight of the knife in Libbey's fist. Which disappeared only inches from his skin. Victor turned around and noticed Dean who was leaning heavily against the door frame shotgun loosely in his hands, only his stubbornness holding him upright.

Victor opened his mouth to asked how the hell Dean even get on his feet in the first place but was cut off by the trap door. It moved by itself. Rusty hinges not used in decades gave away unwillingly but when the trap door reached the turning point and gravity took over, it crashed to the floor. Too bad Victor's leg was in the way. The edge of a thick board smacked into his flesh and Victor's words turned into a guttural yell.

Ignoring Victor's agony Sam crawled forward. On hands and knees he exterminated the dark hole beneath the door. Victor blinked away the tears one hand rubbing the spot where he could nearly feel the bruise growing. Nothing broken as far as he could tell. With the rest he could deal later. For now he followed Sam's example and didn't try to stand up. Another blast of Dean's shotgun reminded him that they were not alone. And they were running out of time.

"Cover me." Sam's voice was still a raspy whisper and he was trembling but it didn't stop him from climbing down the ladder into the darkness. So Victor bit back the pain and hold his flashlight with one hand and the shotgun with his other. Fully concentrated on Sam's way down he had to trust Dean to cover his back. Another shot told him he did. How Dean had managed to reload his gun in his condition was a mystery Victor hadn't the time to think about.

Sam reached the bottom.

Mouthing an "OK" he gave Victor the signal to climb down. What he did as quick as possible which wasn't very quick. The pain sent lances of fire up his leg with every step but he gritted his teeth and shoved it back in his mind. He could deal with the pain once they had gotten outa here alive.

Back to back they scanned the room with the beams of their flashlights.

"That sick bastard." Victor's beam highlighted a row of glasses on a shelf clearly arranged to caught attention. Conserved in alcohol eyes looked at the intruders. Not looking, staring. The light combined with the smoothing dust returned the sparkle of life to the eyes. Their stare followed Victor through the room. Just like old oil paintings only creepier. Victor swallowed dry and tried to ignore them.

Sam pointed to their right. On a table – a torture rack – lay a mummified body. A woman with what had been once long red hair. Scully.

Scrambled on the floor they found the remains of Donald Libbey. Or what was left of him. If he didn't know that it had been a human body Victor could have mistaken the pile for a sick sculpture. Made by Picasso on LSD. It looked like an explosion to Victor but nothing else in the room seemed touched by it. Decades of dust had covered the worst of it. Thank god for small mercies.

Sam pressed the salt canister into Victor's hand. He nearly dropped the flashlight before he could get a grip around both objects. No way he was messing with the shotgun in his right.

Sam dashed forward. So did Libbey and Scully. The next minute was a blur.

At some point Victor crashed into the shelf and the glasses went down. With an _uff_ the air was pressed out of his lungs and the pain was back in his abused ribs. He had almost forgotten. Damn.

The smell of alcohol stung into his nose and a cold liquid soaked his clothes. Trying to get up, his fingertips touched something round and bouncy. He shrieked back. Frigging eyes.

_Dammit Victor. Get your lazy ass up and finish the job._ Something crushed on the other side of the room. Victor could only hope it wasn't Sam.

Gathering his things Victor pushed himself up. He didn't dare to look down to see where the other eyes went and he didn't care. One or two burst under his shoes. The mixture of alcohol and gunpowder in the air along with the dust didn't help his breathing, his lungs felt like they were filled with rusty nails, but he limped back to the table and splattered Libbey's corpse with salt. As an afterthought he did the same with Scully's body.

At some point Sam had joint him, dozing the remains with the lighter fluid.

Sam dropped the empty canister to blast Scully away however he had a book of matches in hand the next second.

"Out!" Sam yelled. Considering the alcohol all over – especially on his clothes – Victor started toward the ladder. Sam was right behind him tossing the burning matches over his shoulder.

By the time he got out of the hole Victor could feel the heat. Turning around to help Sam up Victor suddenly stood face to face with Libbey. The ghost screamed his anger and frustration at him. Victor saw the knife coming but he had no time to raise the shotgun.

_I'm dead._ The thought was clear in his head. Just a simple fact. But then Libbey burst into flames and he was gone.

"Is it over?" Victor didn't trust his voice but he had to know. If Sam noticed the edge of panic he didn't show.

Knowing better than to speak Sam nodded with a weak smile. They helped each other to their feet and more important to stay upright. Leaning on the furniture Victor made his way back to Dean. Sam seemed more stable but he was still trembling.

"D'n." With new energy Sam sprinted the last steps to his brother. Dean lay on the floor in a puddle of blood. Unconscious.

"Is he alive?" Endless seconds later Victor reached Sam's site. The pain in his leg and ribs forgotten at the sight of the motionless Winchester.

Sam nodded and directed Victor toward Dean's feet.

"OK, got him." Victor adjusted his grip around the dangling legs and waited till Sam had the torso in a hold that reminded him of the Heimlich maneuver. Together they lifted Dean up who didn't even twitch. Damn, he was heavy and he was bleeding again.

Victor couldn't say from where they got the strength but they carried Dean out of the basement and the long way back to the car. Getting Dean settled into the back seat was another tricky moment but Sam seemed experienced at that. _How often did you have to deal with this shit alone?_ Victor didn't asked that question loud but he wondered. What had Sam said to Dean to convince the older Winchester not to drive with a concussion? _But this time I'm not bleeding to death in the back seat._

And now it was Sam behind the wheel. The way he squinted Victor wasn't sure he could even see the road probably. His breathing was labored and he was covered in sweat. For a second Victor was tempted to offer to drive. But he didn't. His right leg being busted was an excuse but not the real reason. As long as one of the Winchesters was capable of driving he wasn't aloud behind the wheel, he got that. So he didn't offer it.

Sam drove like a maniac to the hospital.


	10. Chapter 10

"Your brother is being prepared for surgery as we speak." The doctor – who had kept them waiting for what felt like an eternity – informed them. He had introduced himself as Dr Snyder and he hadn't shook their hands. He looked down on Sam like he was some kind of hobo and being Sam's size that meant something.

"What's his condition?" Sam asked ignoring the doctor's attitude. The words where more squeaks than actually words but the doctor seemed to understand them. Maybe every worried person in the world asked the same questions when a beloved one was going into surgery.

"He is stable for the moment." He answered in that neutral way doctors used when they didn't know squat. "We will know more during the operation."

Sam nodded. If he wanted to give his voice a rest or just knew the procedure Victor could only guess. Maybe both.

"What exactly happened?" The doctor tried his best to not openly stare at Sam's abused throat. Beneath the grime the dark bruises were blooming.

They gave quite a picture. All three of them covered from head to toe in dust, blood and other things, they probably had to wash Dean completely before they could even think about surgery. Victor stunk like he had bathed in alcohol – which actually came close to the truth – and he was limping, Dean was stabbed and Sam had strangulation marks. And no, Victor would not cradle his rips. Not while the doctor were sizing them up and were clearly considering if he should call the cops or at least security.

Sam opened his mouth to answer but Victor interrupted him before the first squeaking sound could came out. "We were renovating and when we tried to get the panels off the whole ceiling came down."

His statement earned him two surprised looks but Sam hid his better. The doctor however didn't looked convinced.

"And then some metal stuck in Dean's back." Victor finished his explanation. He didn't care if the doctor believed his story or not as long as he kept the cops out of it. If it wasn't Dean's life at stake it would be hilarious. Here he was standing and trying to convince a doctor in a small clinic somewhere in hicksville not to call the cops.

They were saved by a nurse who gave the doctor the sign that they were ready to start with the operation.

"I would suggest you use the time to clean up. Like that we can't let you anywhere further than the entrance." With a last despised look and an audible sniff the doctor left.

"What a dick." Victor turned toward Sam who had crashed into a chair. And he didn't show any intention to move till he got news about Dean. He had his elbows resting on his knees and his head hung in an expression of exhaustion and defeat.

"But he has a point." Victor continued when Sam didn't react to his words. "Like this they wouldn't let you anywhere near Dean." Still no response. "Sam?"

Slowly Sam lifted his head. His eyes swam with tears.

Victor was an only child so he only had a general idea that siblings where supposed to be close. His years at the FBI had shown him the more common truth: More often than not your brother or sister turns out to be your worst enemy. Victor shrugged. You can pick your friends but you can't pick your family, he guessed.

However, what he read in Sam's eyes hit him like a train. But it made sense, didn't it? The brothers lived in a small world few people even knew exist. They had no family – maybe except Bobby but Victor still wasn't sure about the relation between the Winchesters and Singer – and apparently not many friends. They only had each other. And without Dean Sam just fell apart.

It took a few minutes but then Sam pushed himself up and turned toward the exit.

"Quick." He mouthed. Victor was fine with that. Of course Sam wanted to be there when the doctor finished his work. And Victor had to admit that he wanted Dean to be alright, too.

Limping he followed Sam outside, the stare of the nurse at the front desk burning into his back. Beside the dead women which had led them into town in the first place the hunters probably were the biggest sensation this clinic had seen in years.

This time Victor offered to drive but Sam just shook his head. They drove in silence. Back at the motel Victor tossed his clothes on the bathroom floor and took a shower as hot as he could get. Dressed in clean jeans and shirt he felt human again and the water did a good job to relax the muscles in his leg and to ease the pain. But he probably should stock up on painkillers and first aid supplies when he was at it.

Outside Sam was already waiting for him. His hair was still wet and his shirt, which had a collar that covered most of the bruises, stuck wet to his body. In the back seat he had a bag with things Dean would need. Victor didn't have to take a look to know that much.

Inside the car Sam took the time to get a bottle of painkillers out of the glove compartment. He swallowed two pills with half a water bottle then tossed both objects into Victor's lab.

"How is the leg?" Sam asked while he got the car on the road.

"How is the throat?" Victor washed the pills down with the rest of the water. For a second they grinned at each other. Neither could completely hide his worries.

"That was a good cover story." Sam said after they set once again in that uncomfortable plastic chairs. His voice sounded still rusty but he could speak in actual words and not squeakers.

"Thanks." Victor handed him a cup of coffee and a candy bar. The vending machine had limited assortment but the coffee was hot and tasted not too burned. They both hadn't slept and when he had eaten the last time Victor had no idea, they needed the caffeine and some energy.

"As soon as we get the chance we should tell Dean." Sam managed a weak smile. "Usually it's the wall that collapses while we are renovating. Aunt Betty's house. North-east corner" He wanted to say more but his voice weakened and he fell silent.

Victor blinked but then remembered the case in Baltimore – the Death Omen as he now knew – back then the Winchesters had a detailed story about what happened without the chance to speak to each other beforehand. You probably need to grow up together to pull that stunt.

Suddenly Sam was on his feet. "Doctor."

Dr Snyder reached them with a smile which was a good sign, wasn't it?

"Surgery went well." He informed them. "The … piece of metal nicked the intestine but it missed the aorta. Your brother was very lucky. He get's antibiotics to prevent an infection and I'll keep him on ICU for observation for a day or two."

"But he'll be fine?" Sam asked the only question that mattered to him. The doctor nodded.

"Can I see him?" Sam was already moving.

"As soon as he is settled." The doctor slowed him down. Then he seemed to remember Victor. "Family only. Sorry."

Sam stopped but hesitated just for a second. "He's my brother-in-law."

_Was he now?_ The look on the doctor's face mirrored Victor's thought.

"Oh, OK." Did the doctor sounded a bit disappointed? "While your brother is transferred to the ICU I can take a look at you two. You look a little battered, too. What happened to your throat?"

_And here we are again. Damn._ Why couldn't the doctor just leave them alone?

"Oh, god. Karen." Sam blurred out with real concern in his rusty voice. "She doesn't know yet. I've to call her." With that Sam stomped off leaving the nosy doctor behind.

Victor shrugged a "sorry" at the doctor and followed Sam. God, that boy was a quick thinker. Behind the next corner he spotted Sam how had cornered a nurse to show him the way to the ICU. Sam gave her the eyes that implied that his whole world would shatter if she didn't take him to his brother immediately. At least she was nice and took pity on him, not like some doctors Victor knew.

"This way, hon." They followed her through long corridors. "Please keep in mind that this is the ICU, things can look a little scary but your brother will be fine."

"I know." With a nod Sam thanked the nurse, took a deep breath and entered the room. Dean lay in a bed, his face pale with dark shadows under his eyes. He had an oxygen support under his nose and his vitals were monitored by a beeping machine. Except for the beeping it was rather peaceful.

They sat in silence – Sam next to the bed, Dean's hand in his – and waited for Dean to wake up.

"Thanks." Victor spoke after a while.

"For what?"

"For letting me in." He made a wide gesture. "You didn't have to make me family."

Sam nodded, his attention back on Dean. "I wanted to have you here."

_So you don't have to wait alone._ Aloud he said: "Now I'm married with your not existing sister Karen?"

"You are lucky it's not me in the hospital bed." Sam answered with a smile, his thumb caressing the back of Dean's hand. "Dean would have made us a married gay couple."


	11. Chapter 11

Infection stroke the next day. Dean was out of it most of the time while the IV dribbled antibiotics and much needed fluids into his body. From time to time his eyelids flattered like he was about to wake up only to fall back into unconsciousness seconds later. Every time Sam was there, pleading for his big brother to open his eyes.

Dr Snyder had a worried look on his face but constantly repeated that Dean was fighter. He was still an arrogant bastard but now he hid it behind a mask of professionalism. Maybe by returning showered and in decent clothes – and with an insurance card for Dean – Sam and Victor had managed to step up from alcoholic hobos. That and the fact that they didn't go postal.

"Sam." Victor said in a low voice like he did every few hours. "You need to eat something." And maybe a good night's sleep but Victor never said that.

Sam turned his bloodshot eyes from his brother and looked at Victor. Sometimes, like now, he seemed to completely forget that Victor was in the room with him. What that told Victor about the brothers sent a sharp bolt of pain right through his heart. Sam didn't expect somebody to be with him in this situation. He was used to deal with this shit alone.

On the other hand he trusted Victor enough to forget he was in the room which made Victor proud in a twisted kind of way.

"You have to eat." Victor repeated when Sam didn't answer. "Get out half an hour. I'll keep watch."

Like the other times Sam pulled himself visibly together and stood up. "I'll be back in a few."

While the nice nurse – Amy, a motherly woman in her mid fifties, who had fallen for Sam's puppy eyes – supplied them with plenty of coffee, they where not allowed to eat in here. So Victor kicked Sam out on a regular basis to stretch his legs and get something into his stomach.

Of course Dean chose one of those moments to wake up.

"S'm?" Unfocussed eyes were searching for a familiar face.

"He'll be back in a minute." Victor placed himself in Dean's line of sight. "How do you feel?"

Dean blinked a few times a puzzled look on his face. "Vic." He finally recognized him. With his dry tongue he licked his even dryer lips. "Sam?"

"Back in a few." Carefully he placed a cup of lukewarm water on Dean's lips who swallowed two sips before he lay back with a cough. "They fixed the internal damage but you lost a lot of blood. And to top that you got an infection."

"Never doing something halfway." He tried a smile. His eyes closed and Victor thought he had gone back to sleep. But then he spoke again. "What's my name?" The words were a scarcely audible mumble however it was enough to make Victor's heart skip a beat.

_Shit, what was this? Amnesia? _What should he say? Dammit, why had Dean to chose to wake up when Sam wasn't there?

A chuckle stopped his train of thought. "Relax." Dean had his eyes open again and he was clearly amused. "I know my name but that's not the name Sam used to check me in."

"Oh." Victor let out a sigh of relief. "Cooper. Dean Cooper."

"Good to know." He tried to reach for the cup of water by himself but he could barley lift his hand. Without fuss Victor hold the cup for him.

"By the way." He whipped some water from Dean's chin who made a face but let him. "Sam made me family. According to him I'm married with your sister Karen." This time the chuckle turned into a real laugh which soon became a painful groan. Dean leaned back into his pillow even paler than moments ago.

"As if I would let you go out with my sister." His voice was sleepy and when his eyes fell close they stayed closed.

When Sam returned ten minutes later Dean was fast asleep.

"Did I miss something?" Sam took his seat next to Dean's bed, his hand immediately reaching for Dean's. He stayed like this for hours, caressing the back of Dean's hand with his thumb which Victor assumed Sam didn't even recognize he did. Good thing Dean was out of it, Sam could never hope to live that one down.

"He woke up for a few minutes." Victor didn't need to see Sam's face which was focused once again on Dean to know he was disappointed. Sam had spend most of the last two days next to his brother just to be there when he finally woke up. And then he missed it.

"Was he coherent?"

"Yes. Drank some water and joked he wouldn't let me go out with your made up sister." As an afterthought he added: "He knows he is Cooper around here, too."

"Good."

Later when Dr Snyder checked Dean's results he had an actual smile on his face.

"Looks like we got the infection under control, Mr Cooper." He kept his attention on the clipboard in his hands but he referred to Sam as a Mr which was kind of an improvement. "I want to see how he is doing over night but I think we can transfer him to a normal room tomorrow." He nodded to himself and left the room without another word.

"He's still a dick." Victor could only shake his head. But apparently the doctor knew what he was doing. Or so Victor hoped.

"Somebody need a coffee?" The door had barley closed behind the doctor when Amy came in two cups of steaming coffee in hand.

"You are an angel." Sam took a cup and leaned back in his chair a huge smile with dimples and everything on his face. Amy giggled like a schoolgirl and tried to hide her blush by fiddling with the IV. "The fever went down and the signs of infection in his blood are getting down, too." She took flight into business talk. "If there are no complications Dean will be on his feet again in no time." She patted Sam's shoulder before she left.

"My little brother the cougar bait. What did I do wrong?"

"Dean." The word was a rough whisper which had nothing to do with Sam's still abused throat. At this point Victor decided it was time for him to leave the room and give the brothers some privacy. Sipping his coffee he strolled down the corridor not sure where to go. Still limping he had no intention to go for a walk. So he sat down in a small waiting area with his coffee.

"They are really close, aren't they?" Amy joined him. Visiting hours were over so the station was quiet. Thanks to Sam's puppy dog eyes they were allowed to stay.

"Yes, they are." Co-dependent was the term in the FBI files. Dominant aggressive for Dean and submissive devote for Sam. Co-dependent? Yes, Victor could see that. But honestly, they had only themselves who else should they depend on? It was their way to survive. And the rest was bullshit. After a few days with the Winchesters he had given up to figure out the depth of their relationship. On the first glance Dean was clearly the dominant partner, on the second it was Sam – Dean could never say no to his little brother – and on the third it all got mixed up.

They chatted for a little while till Amy had to return to work with the promise to check on Dean later.

When Victor returned into the room both Winchesters were asleep, Sam's head in the crock of his elbow right next to Dean's shoulder. Some color had returned to Dean's face and this time not from the fever.

The next day Dean got a normal room, healing should only be a matter of time. Dr Snyder checked his vitals and wasn't seen for the rest of the day. Victor took that as a good sign. In the evening Victor tried to convince Sam to come with him back to the motel to sleep in a real bed for a change.

"Dude, I'm fine here." Dean was on Victor's side in this matter. "Besides you really need a shower and a shave. You look like Grizzly Adams."

"It can't be that bad." Sam ran a hand over his face. "Otherwise Doc Snyder would have thrown me out days ago."

"I'm fine, Sam. Get some sleep."

They returned first thing in the morning. Sam looked well rested and Victor even managed to force some kind of breakfast into him that was more than a coffee. That he ate it out of a paper bag in Dean's room Victor could life with.

The fact that Dean slept through the rustling and the smell of real food was a sure sign that Dean was far from being on top of his game. While they waited for Dean to wake up, Sam buried his nose in the book he found in Libbey's house.

"Now I know I'll live." Dean suddenly broke the silence. "A book is more interesting than the injured brother."

"How are you?" Sam closed the book but marked the page with his finger. It was the page with the ritual Libbey had used, Victor was pretty sure.

"I would feel better with a cup of that." Dean nodded hopefully toward Sam's coffee.

"Not without the doctor's permission."

Dean actually pouted and he came close to that puppy dog eyes of Sam. But close wasn't enough. So he turned toward Victor.

"Don't look at me like that." Victor hold his hands up in mock surrender. Dean mumbled something under his breath which Victor didn't try to understand.

"So what's with the book? We got rid of Donny, right?" Dean asked and snacked some of Sam's leftovers.

"Yeah." Sam shifted uncomfortable on his chair. The was a big but hanging in the air.

"But?" Dean asked when Sam didn't continue.

"On our way out of the house, after we burned her remains." He finally said. "I saw Scully."


	12. Chapter 12

"You shouldn't have lied to you brother." Victor pointed out.

"I didn't exactly lie to him." Sam threw the bag over his shoulder and turned the flashlight on.

"You told him we would get him out of the hospital in the morning and take care of Scully together." He spread his arms. "And now we are here in the middle of the night. Looks pretty much like lying to me." Victor got it, of course he did. After Sam had told his brother what they had to do to put Scully to rest Dean insisted to come along. In his condition? Not a good idea. So yes, he got why Sam wanted Dean to sit tight in the hospital while they were out here to take care of things. It still felt wrong.

"He knows." Sam said over his shoulder, Victor had to hurry to catch up with him. "Sort of."

"What? Did I miss something?" In his mind he went through the conversation between the brothers but he found not even a hint of what Sam had been planing to do.

Sam let out a sigh. "Dean went through my notes and he knows this ritual has to be done by midnight. And he knows it's not really dangerous." They reached the house. It was still standing, nothing indicated there had been a fire just days ago. It loomed over them like something right out of a horror movie. "This way he can pretend he doesn't know I'm in a potential dangerous situation and doesn't have to go into that protective big brother mode of his." He sucked in his bottom lip. Victor guessed this was the first time one of the brother ever explained some of the dynamics of their relationship. And this was only the part Sam was conscious about.

"He will, however, bail out of the hospital if he hasn't heard form us till two in the morning." Sam finished his explanation with a grin. "Of course he will scream at me for coming here alone."

After a second he realized what he had just said. "I didn't mean to … em." In the darkness Victor couldn't see his face but he was pretty sure the boy just blushed.

"Alone like not with Dean, I get it." They stopped to get the shotguns ready. They didn't expect trouble with Scully but better save than sorry, right?

In silence they made their way to the basement.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Victor didn't point the beam of his flashlight to the floor where he knew he would find Dean's dried blood. A lot of Dean's blood.

"The closer we are to the place he performed the original ritual the better." Sam didn't quite answer his question.

Still no sign of the fire. Victor smelled smoke but the air was breathable.

"The trap door is shut." Sam was ahead into the room while Victor stayed back to cover him with the shotgun. "Melted actually."

"So that's why the house is still standing." At least that mystery was solved.

"Give me a hand." Together they moved the furniture aside till they had a free spot next to the trap door. Sweat and dust covered Victor within minutes and he had the taste of smoke deep in his throat. Coughing he tried to clear his airways, Sam did the same but he sounded a lot more labored. So much for his throat being fine.

"We won't end like Libbey, right?" Victor asked when Sam started to chalk symbols on the floor. He copied them from the book Libbey had used. After all, Libbey had died trying a ritual from that book. Not in a pretty way. And he had to use a human sacrifice.

"The original ritual was the one with the black magic." Sam explained and whipped his fingers on his jeans. "This is more like a seance. We call her, thank her for her service and release her."

That simple, huh? Victor still waited for the day statements like that would sound reasonable.

"Hold that." Sam shoved a bowl in his hands and dug for the other ingredients in his bag. With a routine Victor didn't want to think about Sam mixed herbs in the bowl and placed some candles on the ground.

"You do that often?" Victor couldn't quite hide the nervous edge in his voice. He had the picture of Libbey's remains stuck in his head.

"Only if I have to." Sam looked him straight in the eye. "You don't want do play around with this stuff if it's not absolutely necessary."

Victor nodded his understanding. Before he had seen Libbey's corpse he would have laughed at the idea of some scratches on the floor, candles and burning herbs doing something else than let you look stupid. Now there were to many way this could go wrong.

They finished the preparation and took their positions. While Sam knelt on the floor, Victor stood guard with the shotgun.

"Only fire if she attacks." Was Sam's last introduction before he started to read Latin from the book. At some point he cut himself with a knife and mixed his blood with the herbs in the bowl. Victor winced in sympathy – the cut on his own arm had just recently healed – but Sam didn't even flinch. The Winchesters were tough bastards, both of them. Victor was pretty sure he himself couldn't do that without minutes of hesitation.

Fresh smoke from the burning herbs with the undertone of sizzling blood filled the air.

"You came back." With a drop of temperature Scully stood on the other side of the drawing on the floor. Victor raised his shotgun just in case.

"We are here to help you." Sam stood up, holding his hands in the universal gesture of I-won't-harm-you.

"You already did. He's gone." A sad smile crossed her face. "I fought him for so long but he grew stronger and then ..." She broke up with tears in her eyes. So ghosts could cry. Victor hold his breath, afraid to blink and miss something.

"What he made you do is not your fault." Sam reached out and grabbed her hand. "You helped us to stop him. We couldn't have done it without you."

"I hurt you." Searching she looked around. "And that other man? Is he ...?"

"I had worse and my brother is in the hospital but he'll be fine." Sam explained and Scully visibly relaxed. If Victor didn't know she was a ghost he would have mistaken her for a living person.

"What's your name?" Sam asked. The question came out of the blue. In his mind Victor still referred to her as Scully but of course that wasn't her real name.

"Susan. Susan Walker."

"Hi, Susan." Sam flashed her his smile with the dimples. "I'm Sam and this is Victor." When she turned her head in his direction Victor hastily lowered the shotgun he somehow still had aimed at her. "You know that Donald Libbey did something to bind you? To subdue you?"

The tears were back when she nodded. "He wanted me to help him kill those women. He wasn't strong enough to do it alone. Not yet. He grew stronger and I fought him off as long as I could, but ..."

"You held him off for decades." Sam wanted to say more but was cut off by Scully – Susan – Victor corrected himself.

"He wanted me to collect their souls. Even if I knew how to do that, I would never …" She broke up, determination in her eyes. "Never."

"We know that and we want to thank you." Sam smiled at her and picked up the book again. "Are you ready to leave this place?"

"Yes." It came right from her heart.

Sam read Latin again and Susan closed her eyes.

"Thank you." Victor heard her whisper and then with a bright light she was gone.

"Wow." Victor searched for words. "That was. Wow."

"Yeah." Sam grinned at him and started to collect his stuff. "Most of the time it's like it was with Libbey. But sometimes." His smile got brighter.

"Is she in a better place now?" Victor unloaded his gun and dropped it into the bag.

"Honestly? I don't know. But I think, yes, she's in a better place."

Together they made their way back to the car.

With a sigh Victor settled into the passenger seat. He could hear his bed calling and wouldn't mind to sleep for three days straight but Sam had other plans.

"Okay, let's get Dean and then hit the road."

***end***

* * *

><p>I want to thank everybody who enjoyed this story with me. It's just amazing how many people read it, left a review or put it on their alertfavorite list.

Victor's journey will continue in the fourth part of this 'verse "Strangers In A Bar" so watch out for it if you like. However, there is an evil little plot bunny demanding attention so I'll kill (write) that one first.


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